


Neurasthenia

by TaxiDriverMark



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Drug Use, Headaches & Migraines, Insomnia, Internalized Homophobia, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Health Issues, Mental facility, Nihilism, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaxiDriverMark/pseuds/TaxiDriverMark
Summary: Then I was there, in a blank room with nothing but my clothes and the books they allowed me to read. It all happened so quick yet so vividly. I was alone for the first time in a while.It's so lonely in here.
Kudos: 3





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This is partially based off my own thoughts and experience in a psychiatric ward.

When I made the call to my best friend, it was absolutely fucking freezing outside. It was snowing all across the parking lot and onto the building, my breath coming out like smoke. It’s funny that I used to pretend as a kid that the smoke was from a cigarette, because at that point, my exposure to cigarettes had been terrible and negative experiences. But I kept pretending. And at this moment in time, I still pretended. Smoking has been glorified heavily for the past two decades and I think it’s part of the reason I've started smoking. Not cigarettes, I’ve seen what that did to my mom and I heard about how it affected my granddad. But smoking weed is pleasant. I’ve been told it’s not safe and to be aware of the risks because I’m a teenager, but why do they even care? Society always has been rough on weed, ignoring the fact cigarettes and alcohol have always been worse for you. Weed has actually helped people, including me. My anxiety was so much better when I felt relaxed all the time.

But then again, if I was ok, I wouldn’t be outside of a mental facility right now. Truth be told, weed definitely was not a permanent solution, but it’s been four months or so since I got off it and my anxiety is worse again. The constant paranoia and leg tapping, every five fucking seconds. It gets annoying at a certain point, because I don’t want others to think I’m weird, but I’m still continuing. People also say stuff about being weird like it’s a good thing. They’re just talking about people who occasionally say some random, “quirky” things, not the weirdos who have no sense of social skills, who need their own space sometimes and hate themselves. Being a weirdo isn’t fun and people should know that, because being a weirdo in today’s culture is just being an asshole. But whatever, it’s a good thing weirdos can bond. If they couldn’t, I wouldn’t have a single friend.

That entire thing was off topic. I apologize.

“You’re going in now?” questioned Trevor (aka the best dude on earth.) This dude hasn’t been my longest friend, but he’s been one of the best. Back in the day, we did not like each other. I was at a time in my life where I didn’t control my actions or personality. I said things without thinking a lot, and I said a lot of stupid shit to different people. One time, I just stared at him and his other friend during a class for god knows what reason. Thankfully, I started to realize how to be partially normal, and in Freshman year of High School, we shared the same drama class. Due to my totally amazing acting, we bonded over improv. Ironically, I can’t do drama anymore because I’m too far behind in school. It is the way it is, I suppose.

“Yeah, I was just assessed by some psych guy,” I answered his question, my voice practically dying. It hurt to say goodbye like this. “He says I should stay for a while.”

“Fuck bro. This is just so fucked. Are you sure you need to go in?”

“Yeah man. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. I just really hoped you wouldn’t need to go in. I’m going to miss you a lot.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” Jesus, I’m getting all sappy. Why is this happening to me?

“One question before you go.”

I pause for a second, taking in the fact I only have a minute or so left to talk. “What’s the question, Trev?”

“Why did you call me outside in the cold? Why not inside?”

“They don’t allow cellphones in there.”

I hear a laugh from the other end. I laugh too, because honestly, it is funny. Those psychiatrists and nurses think most people want to say some of their goodbyes in the hypothermic hell. Living in Canada should have given them a clue. But of course, here I still am, in my shorts. 

What a day to wear shorts.

“I love you, bro.” Trevor said that and I got lost in thought for a moment. It’s not like I’m going to be in there forever, but I still want to cry. I’m scared about if it’s going to help me or not. Maybe it’ll make my state worse or maybe my friends will look at me differently. It’s so fucking horrifiying to think about what’s going to happen. I’m pleading in my head for somebody to save me. 

“I love you too.” I hang up on Trevor. I’ve already called and texted all the other people I wanted to know that I’m going in. Some people are better left not knowing. Truth is, I don’t know if they’d still respect me after. Then again, it’s hard to believe people respect me. 

I also just realized I should’ve been inside two minutes ago. 

When I was doing the assessment with the psychiatrist, there was loud screaming from the outside of his office. He apologized for that, saying that usually doesn’t happen. From what I learned, he wasn’t lying, they just really lucked out for the day I came. Honestly, it wasn’t the biggest deal to me. What really bothered me was how the doc was just asking these serious mental health questions inside of the most bland room. It felt like one of those useless office spaces where people lose their soul when they join the company. I stared at the floor as he asked the questions, the ground blending more and more into nothingness, until I eventually was just staring at white. Looking around me presented a white room, until I remembered I had to answer questions. 

I’ll spare you the conversation, because it really would bore you. Just a compilation of different ways to say, “Are you going to commit suicide in here?” Within seconds, I was told that I should stay for a while.

Something I didn’t mention, was that my mom was there. We thought she’d have to sign some forms, but it turns out being sixteen means you’re basically an adult in the medical world. So in the end, it was me who finally decided to sign myself in. I chose whatever comes next. My mom has always wanted what’s best for me but she seemed more hesitant about this change then I did. She worried a lot about me, which while sad, was always good. It let me know that people were going to miss me even if my mind told me, “You’re terrible, why do you think people would miss you?”

Thank god for my mom, honestly. My parents don’t always make the right decisions and we argue quite frequently, but they always still love and support me. It’s a lot more than other people get. I’ve met people who truly hate their parents and ones that see nothing wrong with the shit their parents do. I have had a lot of luck in my life and sometimes, I feel bad that I even get sad. My life is more gifted than many others, but I still think it sucks. Happiness is so hard to obtain, even to those who think they have it all. I’m honestly selfish at times with how much I complain about my life, especially to those who’ve experienced way worse than me. I wonder often if I’m a parasite. 

Wondering about my influence on people would have to wait though. I had texts and calls to make before my phone was taken away. So I made them and it somehow went like I expected. People didn’t seem to be bothered and even though I was told I’d be missed, I didn’t feel it. It seemed like people were lying when they said, “I’m going to miss you.” 

Trevor’s was different. He sounded like he was genuinely upset about where I was going in. A few others had the same tone in their voices. A tone of misery that made me feel guilty for making people get close to me. I was hurting some people by doing this. But then again, it was only a few who felt sadness from this reveal. 

I think it was my parents who were the most worried. As I waved goodbye, my mom looked broken. My dad looked away, seeming shy. I didn’t mind. I understood his feelings. Then I was there, in a blank room with nothing but my clothes and the books they allowed me to read. It all happened so quick yet so vividly. I was alone for the first time in a while.


	2. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting people is scary.

I hate board games. I used to like some of them as a kid, because what else was there for me to do? I wasn’t that equipped with technology during childhood so I had to find ways to pass the time. As I grew older, I still liked some games but most were total shit. I can’t think of a single person out there who wants to play modern board games (Such as, Pie Face!, Gooey Louie, or my personal favorite, Mr Bacon’s Big Adventure Board Game.) The point is I don’t like them. But in this facility, with nothing else to really do, board games seem like they might be my savior. 

I was standing in the middle of the main area, when I noticed the board games. There were at least twenty of them, but again, most of them seemed like total rubbish. There is not a bone in my body that would ever play NBC: News TV Game (I was curious as to how it worked, but I’m not that desperate). There was one thing that caught my attention. A puzzle of a bluejay. The bluejay was hiding in some snow and the image just got ingrained into my memory. It looked so peaceful and special. I wish I could be like that bird. Sitting in the snow, showing off my absolute beauty to a world that admired me. It must be interesting to have the infatuation of another person. To be stared at not for being disgusting, but for your elegance. 

But I didn’t end up doing the puzzle. My name had been called as I stared at the box. I thought it was a nurse calling about some paperwork I’d need to sign, but to my surprise, I actually saw another person here. Thank god I’m not alone with just the screamer. Though, it seemed odd this person already knew my name. She was at the kitchen section, drinking some purple juice and seemed to be waiting for me to come over. I wasn’t above making friends in here, so I made my way over.

“This place is pretty boring, right?” she said to me, which I did agree with. A lot. The only thing that kept me focused was the screaming. It had been two hours since it started now. There was stuff being said along with it. Stuff like:

“Let me fucking go!”  
“I need to go home! I don’t want to be here!”  
“Please! I hate it here!”

I could tell the person was younger than me. Their voice was very high pitched and considering they were in here, I’d say they were about thirteen. Fourteen at a push. The girl looked at me as I stared into space, thinking about the screamer.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” she replied to herself. I got pushed back into reality.

“Sorry,” I stuttered out. God, what an introduction to me. “I was just distracted by...that,” I pointed to where the screaming was coming from. It was a room with a white curtain covered over it. There was clear thrashing during the screaming, but I never saw shadows in the curtains. It almost became like background noise at one point, like the music at a party. It was normalized. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl replied. “Also, don’t worry about the screaming. That normally doesn’t happen. You just chose the right night to hear it.” She finished her juice and I was suddenly thirsty. My voice was extremely dry from crying in my room. The first night, from my experience, is always the worst. 

“How’d you know my name?” The question came out like a croak because of my dry voice. Fucking embarrassing. 

“There’s a board over there with all the patient’s names on it,” she said, pointing towards a white board. There was apparently Me, Jaiden, Mia, and Jori. “You could’ve very well been Jori but I guessed correctly it seems.”

“Yep. So, what’s your name?”

“I’m Jaiden. You from this area?”

“I live close by in a small town.” Yeah, life in a small town sucks. It gets boring quickly. “What about you? Are you from somewhere interesting?”

“I live in a small town three hours away. Not much better than you.” We both laughed and I was glad I’d made my first friend here. Being lonely in a place like this sucks. Being bored for the first two hours here had already crushed my soul a bit, so getting a friend really improved it. At this point, my throat had gotten really dry, so I had to get something to drink. Opening the fridge revealed two different types of juice (both flavors unknown) and water.

“Don’t drink the purple pitcher juice,” Jaiden said. “That stuff tastes like the liquid version of bad bubblegum ice cream.”

I stared at it for a second. “I’ll take your word for it.” I grabbed the pitcher of water and found a plastic cup. All the cups were small and blue, looking like something out of a big dollhouse. I’d felt like a child being here so far, with the nurses being overprotective, the child games, the sippy cups, etc. The only thing that didn’t feel childish was the colours. It was all gray and dark yellow mashing together to make some stale, lifeless palette. It gave me the creeps.

The water helped my throat feel less sickly and I stood in that kitchen, in an uncomfortable silence. Jaiden had left for some other room and I was too shy to follow. Following somebody you just met seemed creepy to me, so I just stood in the kitchen. Doing nothing. Time ticking by, boredom slicing through my body like a machete. The mental exhaustion of being here for around three hours now, with nothing but screams of agony and one minute conversations, was starting to kill me. 

But Jaiden came back out with another girl (presumably, Mia) and the other girl spoke up.

“Want to come and play UNO with us?”

So the first night there, I played UNO for an hour straight with these two girls, who were pros at the game. Fun fact: The only other time I played UNO, I was on my friend’s balcony smoking weed with five other people. Which was three months before this stay. So, my UNO experience did not help me at all in this case. I was getting my ass kicked by Mia, while Jaiden occasionally took pity on me for being terrible at the game. 

“Weak,” Mia whispered under her breath as I couldn’t play another card. I scoffed and gave her the finger, with her returning one back. Lovely bunch of teens we are. We played around a total of eleven rounds, with me winning exactly one. Honestly, they probably let me win.

The break room (where we played UNO), was a pretty good place to chill. There were a ton of comfortable sofa chairs, and we all just chilled on them, stretching our legs out to the next. Sitting there and talking about random shit was helping me feel better about being here. It made me feel less alone in a place where people are so often disregarded or forgotten. 

“What about you?” Jaiden asked, looking at me. “Any interesting stories from your life?”

“Well,” I began. “There’s being chased by meth addicts, there’s the story of my ex-best friend, or my best friend’s birthday bash. I got a few stories overall.”

“Why’d you end up here?” Mia asked. That story was a less fun one.

“Well, all in one week, my dog died, my boyfriend broke up with me, school started kicking my ass, and my antidepressants were apparently doing the opposite of their job. My pills had started making me feel suicidal.”

“Did you ever attempt?”

“I was close but it’s mostly just thoughts of dying that cloud my head. Not me killing myself but dying to anything in general. It seems like a sweet release.”

“Well, you'll probably get out fast if you’ve never attempted or done self-harm.”

“You don’t know him,” Jaiden snapped back at Mia. “He might be in here for as long as they say he has to. It won’t be that easy for everybody. We should rethink how lucky we are to even be getting out tomorrow.”

That caught me off guard.

“You guys are getting out tomorrow?” I said, inquisitive. 

“Yeah,” Jaiden confirmed. “We’ve been in here long enough to be let go.”

“That’s cool.”

It wasn’t the best kind of cool though. I had just made friends with these cool-ass people and now they were already leaving. It’s good on them for being able to get out, but now I’m just stuck with the screamer-

That’s when I realized the screaming had stopped quite a while ago.

I wondered if this Jori guy was going to be pleasant to be around.

The TV wasn’t used as much as you might think. There’s nothing interesting on the TV anymore. 99% of what aired were conspiracy theories, kids shows, or republican propaganda. All these political channels just talking about shit that nobody in this place cared about, all because the facility couldn’t get Netflix. I could at least watch the conspiracy shows because they were so stupid that it was funny. Watching all the stuff about aliens replacing our brains with different planes of existence, or the Mayans using phones. Fuck, it was good. But most of the time, it was just kids stuff playing. This was because of the nurses not understanding the maturity of teenagers, but also Jori.

When I met Jori that night, I learned he was eight years old.

Eight years old. In here.

Honestly, I was mad. This facility was a place I was not too fond of, but I could survive it. But somebody that young in here. It must have been so mentally draining for him. It was sad, honestly. The bigger reason it made me mad, was the similarities between him and younger me. This kid felt like a replica of eight year old me, the same interests and issues. Everything seemed the same. But I didn’t end up in a facility when I was eight. I couldn’t imagine young me in a place like this, so seeing him here was messing with my head. I just felt like he didn’t belong here. Maybe there was stuff behind the scenes I didn’t know about, but he just seemed like an average kid. I can’t imagine doing anything like this, sending your kid some place like this. Maybe he was suicidal and I’m being dumb, but I felt so bad for this kid. 

The first thing I saw of him was him eating cereal and watching some kids show on the TV. The show was some odd, nonsensical comedy where people just did random things. Some of the content didn’t even seem age appropriate, but those nurses did not seem to care. Watching it would at least give me something to do. Jaiden had struck up a conversation with Jori, while Mia just seemed to have disappeared. I focused on the TV, not truly paying attention, just staring into nothingness. Blocking out everything, leading me into reality changing around me. The TV became static, the walls started spinning, and my vision was turning white. Then, my name was called. Yet again.

This time, it was paperwork. I signed off on it all, while listening to everything happening around me. Jori was telling Jaiden all about his favorite video games, Mia kept calling on the phone but got no response, the nurses were just clicking away on their computers, and then, there was the ringing. Maybe it wasn’t even from the facility. It could’ve been the ringing I get when I feel anxious. Maybe I was having a panic attack. Who knows at this point.

Then, it was 10pm, and we were sent to bed.


	3. Somniphobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping is hard

Something I was told randomly, was that my sleep medication could cause boners that don’t go away. Very interesting thing to be told. I thought about if that had happened to me, but looking back, the only thing sleep medication has done for me is sometimes help me feel tired. The truth about my sleep pills is that they cause me to be sleepy but they don’t always help me sleep. For the longest time, I thought I had insomnia, but the pills proved I didn’t. What I’ve had isn’t trouble sleeping. I don’t want to sleep. I hate the idea of sleeping at night, because that’s when darkness clouds over us. When I’m alone in the dark, I feel like I’m being watched constantly. This paranoia never truly goes away, but it’s worse at night. So I stay up, dreading the idea of leaving myself vulnerable to the monsters hiding in the shadows. 

It was worse in the ward, because I think somebody actually was watching me. Outside my window was a truck. It was dark inside, but I could almost tell somebody was in there. Staring in. Not just at me, but all the facility windows. It was creepy. I thought about reporting it to the nurses, but I couldn’t. It was like I was mesmerized. I just kept staring at the truck, it’s silver exterior shining off the moonlight. It was horrifying to think somebody was watching me, but the light of the silver was beautiful. It made the truck shine in a whole new light. But I have to stop. I have to try to sleep. I took the medication, I feel tired, it’s time to sleep. I crawl into the bed, which is incredibly rough and not comfortable, and I close my eyes. But the anxiety hits me, and I open them up thirty seconds later. 

Each hour feels long, but it quickly goes into the next. All I do is stare at the ceiling, then I walk around the room, then I’m staring outside at the truck again, then I’ve exited my room to use the bathroom, then I’m back in bed, then-

Maybe I do have some insomnia. Maybe this phobia of sleeping caused my insomnia. Who knows at this point. All I know is, the sleeping medication making me tired while I’m this anxious, is not fun. It’s interesting that I expect each night to be better than the last, but each one just gets longer and longer. It’s the same experience but it changes somehow. The mind is playing tricks on me. Those tricks sometimes turn into hallucinations. Not extreme, vivid ones. The shadows around me just mold into different shapes. They resemble the people I think are spying on me. Fuck those creatures. I want to beat them to death with a crowbar. 

I’m pathetic. These violent thoughts aren’t me, but I still wonder about acting on them. But they’re not even directed at real people. Just the shadows in my imagination. I want to gun them down. But I keep having to remind myself. They’re not real. They never will be. But the truck is real. The person inside of it is real. Right?

There’s no clock in my room, so I end up just deciding to stay in bed and not get out.

Did I really sleep? I can’t tell at this point. All I know is that a nurse comes into my room and tells me it’s time for breakfast. I get up and drag my empty body towards the kitchen, seeing everybody else already almost done with their breakfast. I don’t really mind. The thought of eating anything right now is sickening anyway. I don’t mind their selection, I just can’t. My stomach doesn’t feel good enough for it. The acid reflux is getting worse. 

My back is suddenly aching and my brain is about to shut off. The only thing I’m comprehending right now is the ache. My body feels like it’s going to explode any second, while my stomach suddenly grumbles. Nausea is hitting me hard and I rush to the bathroom. Unexpectedly, I don’t throw up. I just gag a bit, before I cough up spit. I’m feeling so groggy and dead. God, I just want to die right now. The closest thing I could get to feeling better would be more sleep, but of course they’re probably going to say I can’t do that. They’re going to make me stay up and do therapy shit, because that’s all they think can help us. Pricks. 

“How’s your morning going?” asks one of the nurses, who I don’t remember at all. “Did you get a good sleep last night?

I put on a fake smile and act. “Yeah, I had a great sleep!” Sometimes I wonder if I over exaggerate happiness when I talk to people, but they always seem to buy it. I don’t know at this point if anybody would suspect anything about me. My parents knew but that was because they raised me, and my friends got to know me. A first glance at me presents nothing. Nobody interesting. Just some guy whose body is turning on him, as nurses stand around doing paperwork and other people fucked up like the guy, eating breakfast. That guy wishing he could eat as well but not being able to do it. 

“Alright guys, it’s time for a psychical activity!”

I’m sorry, what?

They made us do a fucking gym class. I’ll be honest, I didn’t come here to escape school or anything. I struggle in school but I’m fine with going to it. Gym isn’t even a class I dislike. But why in the fuck would they make us do it here. I don’t think many people here want to be forced to do activity that drains us of the little energy we still have. It’s shitty and my opinion of this place, so far, is total fucking garbage.

“Alright,” a nurse begins. He’s very well built and clearly was made to be a proper gym teacher, but instead he’s a nurse here. He actually looks passionate as he’s about to talk about what we’re doing. He seems to like this, unlike actual gym teachers I’ve experienced. It’s a change of pace. Interesting. “Today we’re going to be playing volleyball. Everybody here knows how to play that?”

“Yes,” almost everybody responds. It’s kind of creepy how everybody basically says it at the same time. All the voices are so depressed and empty, so it melts into one voice, one which is deep yet mellow. 

“Well, let’s begin!”

He starts explaining the game to everyone, which annoys me. There might be some who don’t know how to play but I do, so it feels like he’s talking down to me. He hits the ball up in the air suddenly, and it’s bounced towards me. I step forward and hit my wrist on the ball. I feel a crack and sudden pain as the ball flies towards the ceiling. It hits a light and glass comes down, littering the floor. I don’t notice it because my wrist feels like shit, until I look at the stares around me.

Fuck me.

“Everybody stay here,” the nurse says. “I’m going to go and get some help. You all just...stay standing where you are.” He runs out the door and I’m left to stare at the floor, feeling people’s stares at me. It’s only like two people right now, and that’s Jaiden and Jori. It seems Mia must have left this morning. 

“That was crazy!” Jori says. He’s freaking out like a kid would and he’s just staring at me in amazement. I try to keep my head down. This is so amazing, isn’t it?

Gym (or psychical activity, if you will) ends shortly after and we’re sent to our rooms to work on package material. My struggles lead to the nurses choosing out three booklets for me: “Coping With Anxiety”, “How To Beat Depression”, and some other book about ADHD or something. Them thinking these booklets were going to help was laughable. They clearly don’t know how the mind of an adolescent works. Teens and kids don’t fucking care enough to do this. Especially depressed ones. They make us do all these things here, that apparently, are good for depressed teens. Truth is, this shit doesn’t help.

But boredom is horrible, so I do some work to keep myself occupied. My headaches are getting worse and the ringing in my ears keeps getting louder, but I push through it so if the nurses ask, I can show I’ve put in an effort for them. If you don’t do the work, they keep bugging you about it, but do it in a way which can almost be described as gaslighting. Like, quite interesting you have that attitude towards depressed teens and kids, while forcing them to do work that makes them feel even more dead inside. 

Of course, I don’t have to do a lot. I stop after a short bit of work, and I just stare out my window around where the truck was last night. I still wonder if it was real. Maybe there wasn’t a person in the truck and I’m finally going crazy. That’d really suck, especially since this is supposed to make me feel better. This whole experience hasn’t really made me feel better in general. Having this new routine doesn’t make anything different, the psychical, mental and emotional pain never goes away. It keeps on going, sometimes worse now with living in this unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. This whole experience is so unfamiliar and I cry almost every hour or so, because it’s just that painful to be away from home. Memories cloud my head.

I was sitting on a porch with five friends. It was somebody’s birthday, and we were all smoking weed and playing some card game. I was actually winning and I was taking some good bong rips. As I played my deck, my friend lit up the bong with a torch. I inhaled but then started coughing up a lung, so I had to go get water. We had set up a tent for some reason, with sleeping bags and supplies. I took my water and glugged it all down, then fell to the ground. I sat. Staring into the sunlight coming through the blue fabric. It was such a beautiful moment. I fell asleep after that. Most days I don’t sleep well. But that was a good nap.

I wish I could fall asleep now and never wake up again. To end my journey right here and now. But I’m too weak, so I stand up and go throw up in the bathroom.


End file.
